


In the Still Dawn

by entertheinferno



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Schmoop, This is the fluffiest thing I have ever written, other variatons of such
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 18:37:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1993539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entertheinferno/pseuds/entertheinferno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So you’re sure you can be here? No one’s going to like, pop out of the ground and take you away from me forever? Am I going to have to start painting pictures of you locked away in some tower while i wither away at the bottom because I can’t get to you?”</p><p>Joly worries, Grantaire (probably) worries more.  They are young and they are in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Still Dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anniedison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniedison/gifts).



> Set in my lovely anja's incredible highschool au. Unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> I am playing in her sandbox. I hope you like it <3
> 
> Reviews are love, be kind.

Joly is a worrier.

He worries about his grades and he worries about his parents and he worries about Grantaire deciding that cute smiles and dorky medical jokes are not worth the trouble of secretly dating him.

He worries about a lot of things that he has no control over- the situation overseas, the lack of representation of South Indian culture in media, his college applications- _but_ , he thinks, while Grantaire draws on his hands and his arms and whatever part of him is closest during their free period, _at least i can admit it to myself_.

"Hey," Grantaire says, hitting him on the nose with the eraser end of his pencil. "Come back to me Doc. What's up?"

It’s not actually Grantaire’s free period. He has credit recovery for gym but he’s somehow bribed the coach into not actually giving a shit who shows up and actually does shit, so Grantaire shows up for roll call and then flounces off across the school to steal Joly away from whatever textbook he’s pouring over. They’re outside of the Science wing, lying on the damp grass listening to the sounds of the school; Grantaire’s quiet breathing and, because Joly is sure it has a sound, the soft smile that he reserves for Joly when they’re alone, giggling students coming back from lunch, echoes of lectures leaking out of open windows.

It’s settled in his stomach now, this nostalgic feeling, because he’s going to be gone in a few months. Graduated and off at college, taking classes so he can get a job and become a doctor and become a responsible adult and he is elated and terrified and not in the mood to think about it right now.

“I’m wondering if we’ll still be friends when I’m off at college and you’ve found something better.” Grantaire going to school is a moot point by now. They’ve argued about it before, and they both know that Grantaire could get in but he refuses to even discuss it. "It's not in the books." He says.

“Doesn’t get any better than you.” Grantaire says, and when Joly turns his head to stare, his eyes are soft and earnest, reflecting the afternoon sunlight like clear pools. He does that sometimes, says the things his art usually says for him, honest and straightforward, as if there was never any other possibility.

“No, hey, listen.” He props himself up on his elbows, cranes into Joly’s space and cups his face between his palms. “You’re going to do so many great things. I am so lucky to have you.” Joly smiles, can’t help himself, and Grantaire grins, huge and feline, and kisses him, nips at his bottom lip and curls his hand around the back of his head.

“Hey, um.” Joly kisses him again, because he wants to, god he does, but- “We maybe shouldn’t do this here?”

“Okay.” Grantaire says, and he kisses his cheek and sits back, pulls his sketchbook onto his lap from where it fell to the wayside.

“Sorry.”

“Hey, no. Don’t apologize. I don’t care.”

Joly nods, even though he doesn’t believe him, but when Grantaire tangles their hands together on their way back to class he doesn’t pull away.

\- - -  
.  
“I want you to come out with me on Friday. Do you think…?”

“Um. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll figure it out.”

\- - -

“Amma?”

She hums in response and Joly stops peeling carrots to steel himself. He doesn’t like lying to his parents, and he’s not good at lying to them, it’s just.

He just kind of loves Grantaire a little bit.

“Can I stay over at a friend’s house tomorrow night?”

“Whose house?”

“Uh, Omar’s.” Joly says, ignoring the clenching feeling in his stomach. He’s so bad at this, he’s so bad at this. Why did he think he could do this, he can’t lie. He can’t lie and he’s not going to get to sneak out tomorrow night so he can make out with his boyfriend and maybe sleep in his boyfriend’s bed and shit. Shit. He doesn’t even like Omar. This is a terrible plan, he’s terrible at planning.

Grantaire is going to be so disappointed.

“What are you going to do?” She doesn’t even sound suspicious. This is the home stretch.

_Shit, shit. Just, don’t. You can do this Joly._

“Just watch some movies probably, he’s never seen any of the old Star Trek.” Joly mumbles, staring very resolutely at the end of his carrot.

“That sounds fine, do you want us to pick you up in the morning?”

“I’ll walk.”

He texts Grantaire after dinner, and he responds with at least six emoticons and double the amount of hearts.

\- - -

_so what, you told your parents you were staying here so you can sneak out with your secret boyfriend._

Joly represses the urge to sigh and punch Omar in the face. He’s lucky they’re having this conversation over text, because then he can’t actually punch him. He really wishes he could.

_Yeah, can you please just cover for me if something happens?_

_yeah sure joly w/e. not like I have anything better to do with my life._

_You actually don’t though._

It takes him almost ten minutes to reply and Joly takes quiet pleasure in the victory.

_why are you even with him_

Something tells Joly that this is going to turn Grantaire into the butt of one of the awful jokes he has to hear most days but he responds anyway.

_It has it’s benefits._

_so did he like hook you up with his dealer or_

_No asshole. I was thinking about him using the shower in my room once and trying to squeeze his naked ass into those godawful skinny jeans he wears, but really, keep speculating if you want to get punched next time I see you._

Omar doesn’t respond at all this time, but Joly barely notices, too preoccupied with thoughts of Grantaire and their plans for Friday. He falls asleep thinking about Grantaire’s pale, skinny ass, and his collarbones, and the smooth, freckled skin on his shoulders. He wakes up before dawn with the phantom press of Grantaire’s mouth on his lips and a groggy feeling that he should be able to roll over and touch the boy he’s in love with.

The light in his room is soft and grey, his window half open to the cool, dew damp air of the morning. He stumbles out of bed and pushes it open all the way so there’s enough room for him to sit on the sill with his legs hanging out, dangling over the closed buds of their overgrown rhododendrons.

His cellphone is clutched between his folded palms and when he turns it on the dim glow edges everything in shades of glowing blue, like the photographs he always sees hanging outside of the art classroom, of neon lights and sad girls in lace slips.

Calling Grantaire is more instinct than conscious decision and he doesn’t realize until he’s listening to Grantaire’s soft, groggy voicemail that he’s got his phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear.

“Oh, um. Hi. It’s me. It’s, I didn’t mean to call you, I don’t think. I thought you’d be awake. I’m glad you’re asleep. I dreamed about you. I miss you. It’s really beautiful out, I think the sun is going to rise soon. You should paint this sometime. We could go out to the park, to that place where all the sophomores go to hook up for the first time in the back of their parents’ minivans. I wish- I wish i could see y-”

There’s a beep and then a mechanical voice telling Joly that his message was too long and he can re-record it if he’d like or save the one he just left. Joly presses the key that the voice tells him to and stays perched on the windowsill until the sky starts to turn pink and gold.

He crawls back into bed and when his alarm wakes him up for the second time everything that happened earlier feels like a dream.

 

\- - -

When his mom drops him off outside the school Grantaire is already there, hiding behind an enormous Starbucks coffee, probably black with as much sugar as he could steal before the baristas started to complain, and a beanie that Joly is pretty sure used to belong to him.

“Hi.” Grantaire says, once he’s sure Joly’s mom is out of sight, and he tangles their hands together. He pulls on the lapels of Joly’s blazer so he ducks his head and they can kiss.

“Hi.” Joly smiles, and something unfurls in his chest, like the wings of a moth, and he wishes he was brave enough to tell Grantaire he loves him.

“I got your message, last night. I’m sorry I was asleep.” Joly blushes and Grantaire’s smile curls his mouth like a parenthesis, like it’s closing around a secret only the two of them know. He reaches out and wraps his other hand around Joly’s neck and pulls his head down so he can kiss him. “I want to paint you in the still light of dawn.” He mumbles against Joly’s lips and Joly blushes so hard he thinks he might erupt.

“You sound like you’re quoting poetry.”

“I have my sources.” Grantaire smiles again and Joly kisses it, presses back against him despite the people around them.

“Skip first period with me so we can make out in the practice room?”

“Can’t skip AP, I’m sorry. I’ll get a pass out of English and meet you down there fourth though.” Joly says, and squeezes Grantaire hand once, before he ducks away to join the crowd.

\- - -

“So you’re sure you can be here? No one’s going to like, pop out of the ground and take you away from me forever? Am I going to have to start painting pictures of you locked away in some tower while I wither away at the bottom because I can’t get to you?”

It’s an interesting shift, but Joly has to admit he kind of likes, in a perverted, undoubtedly screwed up way, that Grantaire is the one who’s freaking out this time.

It’s finally getting dark, the sun is below the horizon line and the sky is on fire, lit up in deep purples and oranges, and they’re driving towards the wharf in a car that Grantaire borrowed from one of his friends and Joly’s on top of the world.

His parents think he’s staying at Omar’s house, and his contingency plans have contingency plans, and he’s terrified and elated because he’s going to spend the night with his boyfriend.

“Nope, you’ve got me for the whole night and after. No one’s going to be locking me away anytime soon.” Joly says, and leans over the middle console so he can kiss Grantaire, even though he’s driving and it’s stupid and unsafe, but he doesn’t care.

He’s kind of in love.

“Okay, that’s. I’m glad. I’m really, really glad you could come.” Grantaire says, cheeks tinged pink and smile small. “So we’re gonna go to this, like, party. It’s straight edge, no one’s going to be drinking or smoking or anything, and there’s some really cool people there, and a few bands, and my friends. The scariest people you’re gonna meet are like, wannabe punks, and I’m gonna introduce you to my friends, and you don’t have to like, socialize, you really don’t have to but I want to stay with you all night, and if you wanna go just tell me and we can bail.”

“Hey, R?” Joly says, and Grantaire glances over at him, eyes slightly wild and hair slipping out of it’s bun, unruly curls falling in his eyes. Joly reaches over and tucks one behind his ear and brushes his thumb over his cheekbone. “I’m just glad I’m here, it’s going to be fine ok?”

Grantaire’s whole body relaxes and he presses his cheek against Joly’s palm before turning into a municipal parking lot that’s already half filled with junkers and pickup trucks and grungy teenagers.

“I lo- um, yeah. It is.” He stumbles over his words and ducks his head, pretends that neither of them know what he was going to say and Joly wants to say it to him. He could, it should be easy and he knows it’s what he feels but he falters and then they’re getting out of the car and the moment is gone. Grantaire tangles their fingers together and tugs him towards one of the groups.

\- - -

Grantaire has an interesting group of friends.

They spend the first hour hopping from person to person, talking with anyone who calls Grantaire's name. It takes him a while to warm up to the situation but it’s surprisingly easy to talk to Grantaire’s friends. A sweet, short haired girl called ‘Ponine compliments him on his jacket and they fall into easy conversation and spend almost ten minutes talking about advanced calculus.

Grantaire finds them barefoot on the dock arguing about theoretics and teases them both mercilessly about being nerds.

“I should’ve known you’d hit it off.” He says, kissing Joly’s cheek as they wander off to say hello to someone else.

“She’s really sweet R.”

“Yeah,” He grins. “You doing okay?” His eyebrows knit themselves together but Joly smiles and nods, rubs his thumb over Grantaire’s knuckles.

“Really good. I like your friends.”

Grantaire’s smile is almost as bright as the moon that’s hanging low in the sky above their heads. “They like you too. Like, a lot.”

“You’re basically all we hear about anymore, actually.” Says a reedy voice from behind his head. Grantaire’s smile widens and he spins around to throw his arms around the neck of a thickset ginger with freckles that cover every inch of skin in sight.

“Hi.” He says, through Grantaire’s hair. “I’m Feuilly. S’a pleasure to meet you finally.”

Joly smiles. “Nice to meet you too. You guys must be kinda bored with me by now.”

Feuilly laughs and shakes his head, pushing Grantaire off of him. “Hardly. I just wanted to know if he was making you up or not, you were too good to be true. I owe Lesgles $15 bucks and a pack of smokes.”

Grantaire rolls his eyes and punches his arm. The three of them wander back in the direction of the people Grantaire already introduced Joly to.

There are fairy lights strung up wherever there was room to string them up and further down the wharf the sounds of people on their boats floats along on the breeze, and Joly holds onto Grantaire’s hand and let’s the current pull him under.

The first band hasn’t started yet but someone’s got an acoustic guitar and has snuck up onto the stage and is playing complicated melodies and humming along occasionally. They’ve got a clear, sweet voice and Joly can hear people shouting out requests.

He talks to Bahorel, who was born in Egypt and lives with his grandma, about racism in popular media for a long time and smiles whenever Grantaire presses their shoulders together or kisses his cheek.

“I’m gonna go to get something to drink and maybe find Eponine?” Joly says, tugging Grantaire up for a kiss. He tastes like punch and cigarette smoke and his lips are chapped and Joly wants to press him up against a wall or the car door and kiss him until the only sound that comes out of his mouth is Joly’s name. He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have been able to stop if Bahorel hadn’t started wolf whistling.

He pulls away, face hot, but Grantaire’s hair is all over the place and his too-large shirt is slipping off his shoulder and sometimes Joly looks at him and he thinks about the myths they read about Greek gods, debauched and ethereal and beautiful.

There’s an ‘i love you’ balanced on his lips and nestled between the creases at the corners of Grantaire’s eyes and Joly stumbles forward and kisses him again before he darts away, head bowed, smile wide enough that he’s sure you could see it from the moon.

Grantaire stares after him, head tilted, smile soft and Bahorel just shakes his head and Feuilly reaches out to fix his shirt.

“Well you’re fuckin’ whipped R.” Feuilly teases, but he’s smiling when Grantaire half heartedly punches his shoulder for the second time that night.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Christ.” Grantaire jerks a little at the harsh tone and glances over at the sloping form of Montparnasse, with his snide smile.

“Don’t be a dick Parnasse.” Bahorel says, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, hey, just kidding.” He says, holding his hands up.

“I’m as glad as the rest of you that R’s finally got himself someone. You’re a bore when you’re depressed.”

It’s about as close to approval as Grantaire expected to get from Montparnasse, and he shakes his head and shoves him hard when he walks past, but they’re both smiling.

Joly comes back with a big grin and a nearly empty cup in his hand and he loops his hand around Grantaire’s waist and rests his head on his shoulder.

“Hey.” Grantaire says quietly, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Hi.”

“You wanna go?”

“You ready?” Joly frowns. “I’m okay with staying if you want to.” He’s okay with watching Grantaire for the rest of the night. The way the moonlight touches on the contours of his face, listening to his laugh, like smoke and the rough crash of waves on a cliff face. It’s late and the stars are out, and Joly is surrounded by people he doesn’t know and he’s totally at ease with Grantaire’s hand in his.

“Nah, let’s go. They won’t miss us.” Joly smiles and Grantaire grins back and they sneak off into the darkness of the parking lot towards Grantaire’s borrowed car.

They drive back to Grantaire’s house listening to too loud music, with their hands hanging out their windows and their youth riding on their back. Joly feels like he’s in a movie, like the protagonist that every kid grows up wanting to be and he wants to press Grantaire up against the inside of the car and tell him ‘i love you’ every way that he knows how.

Grantaire’s house is dark when they pull into the empty driveway, and Grantaire unlocks the door and flips the switch for the hall light. His house is the same as it was last time Joly was here, small and cluttered and unlived in in a way that Joly is unused to. It makes him sad to think that Grantaire has to sleep here alone and he presses himself up against Grantaire’s back and kisses his neck.

“So my dad’s gonna be out all night.” Grantaire says quietly, turning his head and catching Joly’s mouth with his. “What do you wanna do?”

“I have some ideas.” Joly says, kissing Grantaire again before pulling away. “Like maybe we could watch Star Trek.” He grins, when Grantaire tries and fails to hide his disappointment and then skips forward and slips his hands under Grantaire’s shirt.

“Or we could have sex. Either works.”

Whatever Grantaire’s response might’ve been is lost in a clash of lips and teeth and Grantaire crowds Joly against the wall, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor.

“As much as I’m enjoying this.” Joly says breathlessly, while Grantaire mouths at his neck, hot and insistent. “Maybe we should go to your bedroom.”

Grantaire mumbles something in response and moves his head to kiss Joly’s mouth again, backing them up towards the stairs.

In a feat that defies all laws of nature, they make it up to Grantaire’s room unharmed and they tumble onto the stacked mattresses that serve as his bed.

Grantaire pulls his shirt off and undoes his belt, kicking his clothes onto the floor and Joly does the same, anxious to be able to touch as much of Grantaire’s skin as he can.

He’s as beautiful as he was the first time they did this, covered in birthmarks and scars and bruises, gaunt and perfect, and Joly winds his hands in his curls and kisses him. He used to be anxious about this, but now the inside of Grantaire’s mouth just feels like home.

His hands are rough when he touches Joly, and the sensation is nearly too much. He gasps against Grantaire’s mouth and bucks up into his hand and Grantaire smiles and kisses him, jerking him off slowly.

He comes in Grantaire’s hand and accidentally bites his lip. Joly pulls away, apologies falling off his lips because Grantaire’s mouth is stained red with blood but Grantaire just wipes it off and kisses the ‘sorry’s’ away.

Joly jerks him off slow and sweet, pressing his apologies into Grantaire’s skin, leaving small bruises on his shoulders and chest and neck, high enough that they’ll be seen. When Grantaire comes his face is pressed into the crook of Joly’s neck and the words fall out before he can stop them.

“I love you.”

There’s a tenseness in his shoulders after that and Joly tugs gently on his hair, pressing kisses against the planes of his face.

“I love you too. I love you so much.”

They fall asleep tangled together like the roots of a tree, ancient and undisturbed and in love. When Joly wakes up in the early dawn, he rolls over and tucks his arm around his boyfriend’s waist, and sleeps without worry in his heart until the birdsongs and sunlight are unbearable.


End file.
